


Congratulations Mr. President

by Anonymous



Category: House of Cards (US TV)
Genre: Breathplay, Coming In Pants, Hand Jobs, M/M, let it be known i called this from the start, post inauguration shenanigans, spoilers for season 5 episode 9
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-01
Updated: 2017-06-01
Packaged: 2018-11-07 20:43:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11066757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Eric finally makes a move, the President isn't surprised.Frank is always ten steps ahead.[beneath the stairs, he's yours]





	Congratulations Mr. President

**Author's Note:**

> Say Hello to your new Daddy.

 

Eric’s heart was hammering in his chest as he followed the President down the cramped spiral staircase, into what might have technically been the basement of the White House, if not for the Presidential bunker beyond that. 

He could barely focus on anything but the wild thoughts racing through his mind as the man pointed out the cigar burn left by the Russian Dictator, and he made a flippant comment before he realized what had left his mouth. 

The President himself had gone silent, and he seemed to be waiting for something, so Eric stepped forward, and put a hand on the man’s shoulder, before doing the same with his other one, and he tried to go slow, to embrace and bring him close enough maybe for a kiss on the cheek, but the man’s words stopped him cold,

“What do you think you are doing?”

Eric swallowed, and began to withdraw, doing his best not to go into full on panic mode, though he could really do nothing about his half hard cock in his dress pants, in the fucking tux he’d rented just for that night.

“I… something I thought was wanted, but it appears that I was wrong-”

The President’s hand was at his throat, and he was backed against the staircase before his brain had caught up to his eyes, as the man gripped tighter, and looked right at his mouth, a grim smile slipping across his own.

“That’s when you know how a man truly feels.”

The fact that he couldn’t breathe properly didn’t do anything to quell the rising panic and the completion of his erection, so Eric stayed as still as possible, hoping against hope that the President wouldn’t notice. 

“Now, how does that make _ you  _ feel?”

He swallowed thickly, air returning to his lungs, as the President’s hand left his throat in a slow motion, dragging down the length of his chest, pressed inside his jacket, fingers hot through the fabric of his shirt, before pausing just at his waistband, the cool kiss of his leather belt halting the burn of the man’s skin.

“I’m not sure what to say, except Congratulations, Mister President.”

“Excellent.”

The man leaned in to press his mouth firmly against Eric’s and his heart skittered to a stop when he felt the hand at his hip shifting down, then palming over his cock, making him thrust unconsciously against it. He moaned as the President moved even closer, grinding into his thigh, and he could feel the other man was just as hard.

“Oh… is that, do you want me to-”

“What? Suck my dick? Is that what you think I want?”

Eric stumbled over his words.

“Sir, I don’t know, but I will if you want... do you want me to?”

The President smirked, 

“No, I don’t think so. Not tonight. Just give me yourself. That’s all I want.”

Eric nodded frantically, and the man’s hand began to stroke him up and down slowly but firm, over the seam of his pants, until he was almost weak at the knees, desperate to come, even if it would make a mess he’d need to pay extra to have dry cleaned out.

“Would you-” he stopped, voice cracking, and the President pulled back from their second kiss, tilted his head, to eye the way Eric was biting his lip, and then his gaze darkened.

“You  _ liked _ that, didn’t you? You want me to choke you on purpose?”

Eric could already feel the wet spot forming on the inside of his briefs, as he nodded again, and the President smiled with a touch more teeth,

“Very well.”

The man’s hand didn’t move as much, but it was a gentle rocking motion, as the other one curled around Eric’s throat again, and his closed his eyes, accepting the steady pressure being applied, before their lips met anew.

White sparks exploded in his vision when he felt himself crest through into his orgasm, hips moving jerkily as he continued to thrust against the President’s palm, his lungs burned from lack of air, but it was glorious. It seemed as if his cock spilled for almost thirty seconds, hot and thick against his underwear, dripping down his thighs, tickling his skin.

The second that the man’s hand dropped from his neck, he hoped there would be a bruise, but he knew, dimly, that the President would never be so stupid as to do such a thing.

“Incredible. You know, I’ve never done that before.”

The man sounded almost impressed, and Eric’s heartbeat sped up again.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to-”

The man shook his head.

“Another time. I need to get back before I’m missed. But don’t you worry. There  _ will _ be another time.”

He patted his hand against Eric’s chest, and then smooth down his jacket lapels, before pulling away, and climbing the stairs so swiftly, he barely blinked, and the President had gone.

He tried not to walk too bizarrely as he returned to the party, the top level, and simply snagged a glass of champagne from a passing server. 

The buzzing of his aftershocks through his body couldn’t really be relished like any other time he got to orgasm, but it felt rather nice, having a secret in a room surrounded by powerful people. No one was more powerful than Frank Underwood, and that man wanted  _ him _ .

 

He still couldn’t help thinking, what had he gotten himself into?

 

 

**End**

 


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